


Drafts

by runicmagitek



Series: Random-Access Memories [2]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Asher Kendrell drabble prompts involving his history throughout Cloudbank, the motivations in his life, and the relationships he forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface that while it _is_ marked Asher/Grant, not _every_ drabble will involve their relationship. It is touched upon, though for the most part, the collection as a whole is gen. Just wanted to clarify.

Children were meant to ask why. How else were they to learn and develop into the future of Cloudbank? The beginning steps of any seed required nourishment - proper sunlight, soil, and water - in order to blossom. With each answer, another leaf unfurled until the petals opened to the beaming sun. The citizens were content with their current state, for why ask more of the abstract when life was already blissful? Though Asher was never content with basking in the light; he longed to grow and touch the sun itself, even if it meant he’d ignite himself and crumble to ashes.


	2. Accusation

“Does this happen often?”

Lillian blinked past her monitor. “What’s that?”

He rested his chin upon a loose fist, eyes skimming over the glowing text. “People accusing the OVC for false information.”

“People get upset over anything which disagrees with their mindset. It happens.”

“But why the accusations?”

“Perhaps they’re bored?”

Asher furrowed his brow and grimaced. If they were indeed bored, perhaps instead of pointing fingers, they could have stood up and done something to earn a better headliner on the OVC. Some citizens of Cloudbank wanted to hear sugarcoated hymns of comfort; all he wrote was the truth.


	3. Restless

“ _Still_ up?”

Asher straightened from his slouched position and looked over his shoulder. Grant yawned while shuffling over to him.

“You _do_ know Cloudbank won’t crumble if you go to sleep.”

Asher’s gaze fell back onto the monitor. “I want to finish this.”

“You don’t _need_ to.”

He resumed typing. “Been restless. I’d rather be doing something than lie in bed, staring at-”

A hand slipped under his chin to turn his face. Asher hitched his breath before Grant closed his mouth over his.

“How about you come back to bed,” Grant whispered, “and I’ll give you something to do.”


	4. Snowflake

His heart skipped beats each time the option for light snowfall popped up on the polls. Asher clicked it without second thought, then crossed his fingers. Most citizens preferred warmer weather; no one wanted to slog down the streets, bundled in multiple layers while dirtying it in the snow. But Asher loved the cold tickling his cheeks and snowflakes catching in his hair. Mysticism resided in the snow; it was quiet, subtle, and beautiful. Much like his time spent writing. Then again, not everyone understood the allure to words. At least he and the snow had that much in common.


	5. Haze

Nothing was worse, in Asher’s mind, than sitting in front of his monitor, eyeing a blank document, and not having the slightest clue as to what words would fill the white space. The cursor blinked, taunting him. He groaned behind his sweaty palms. The haze he lost himself in showed no signs of dissolving. Thus was the way with writer’s block. He tried everything: fresh coffee, a brisk walk, even prompts from coworkers. Nothing sparked to life before Asher’s eyes. With a sigh, he brought his hands forward to type, to try _something_. Hopefully it wouldn’t sound like garbled garbage.


	6. Flame

A single candlestick sat in the middle of the table. The flame wiggled about on the wick, slowly eating away at the wax. Every subtle movement reminded Asher of the time creeping by and the empty chair opposite him.

Then the front door to the restaurant flung open and Asher held his breath, releasing it when a familiar face hurried over to him.

“My apologies,” Grant spoke while sitting down, “I’m _late_.”

“Better than forgetting me altogether.”

Grant took his seat and sighed. “Never. Do you forgive me?”

Asher couldn’t resist smiling. “You can make it up to me later.”


	7. Formal

What was the _point_ in a poetry class when he desired to write articles detailing life? What benefit would he gain from whimsy when his hands ached for formal sentence structures? But Asher heeded his advisor’s words and begrudgingly attended the class. It opened his eyes more than any technical class did; it encouraged him to dig within and write freely of what he felt. And when Asher arrived for his first day of work for the OVC, he conjured the phantoms which guided him years ago and brought a fresh take on recounting life in its rawest, truest form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember being in art school and having to take classes outside of my elected major - graphic design. I thought anything outside of graphic design was just a waste of my time. I ended up taking a weaving class and fell in love with it. Even had the textile department head ask me to switch majors (I didn't, but it was flattering). Weaving taught me to broaden my scope when it came to inspiration and sometimes it's best to try the opposite side of the spectrum when it comes to creativity. I then thought of a young Asher in a similar situation and decided to roll with that.


	8. Companion

The downpour was relentless when he found the ball of fluff crying out on the streets. Asher abandoned his friends to rescue the shivering kitten from the gutters. wrapping it up in his thick scarf. He intended to look for its owner, only to realize that the kitten had been disposed of instead of lost.

“How could anyone do that to you?” he whispered into the kitten’s plush fur.

Thus Asher decided to adopt the kitten. And he couldn’t have asked for a better companion, for over time, the loving creature silently reminded him every day that he was needed.


	9. Move

Someone moved into the empty office beside his. Asher examined the empty boxes and decorations before seeking Lillian.

“Did you hear?” She sipped her coffee, eyes glued to her monitor. “You have a new assistant.”

“An _intern_ ,” he corrected her.

Her eyes met his. “And she's lovely and you should give her a chance.”

Asher waited by the office until a young face approached the area. She looked him over and clutched her hands.

“Are you… Asher, by any chance?”

“I am.”

She bounced upright, smiled, and extended her hand. “Amelia Garber. I'm really looking forward to working with you.”


	10. Silver

The times when Grant fell asleep at his desk in an attempt to catch up on accumulating work were Asher’s favorites. Grant appeared peaceful in his sudden slumber, for he of all people deserved a break. And to think he was the one lecturing Asher for overworking himself. Asher never disturbed him, even when he wanted to nuzzle into his body to join him. Instead, he pushed silver and white locks out of Grant’s face to kiss his temple. Whenever he woke up, Asher would have tea for him along with a spot in bed for them to relax in.


	11. Prepared

Sometimes Asher wanted nothing else but to tell him to calm down; the constant state of anxiety Royce lived in plucked at Asher’s nerves more than he wished to let on. How could anyone in their right mind go about life always wanting to plan every step of the way days - if not weeks - in advance? For every answer Asher found, Royce asked ten more. Asher glared, only to stop when he recalled Grant’s lavish praise of the architect. Despite Royce’s differences, Asher had to give him credit for one aspect; Royce was never _not_ prepared for the worst outcome. 


	12. Knowledge

“Asher, do you know anything?”

His heartbeat skipped as his eyes darted up to Amelia’s. They were working late, editing last minute articles, but Amelia’s terminal displayed the updates on Lillian Platt’s disappearance. The two ladies had been close friends. Everyone knew that.

And with the way her eyes begged to him now, Asher wondered if  _ she  _ knew as much as he did. 

“No,” he said after a pause.

“I wish we knew more.” Amelia sighed. “Anything would be helpful.”

Asher nodded. What he did know was Lillian knew too much; her knowledge was better left unknown, just like herself. 


	13. Denial

“Where do you get your nails done?”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Sybil blinked. “I’m sorry, I… you take good care of your hands. I can’t help but notice how well-manicured they are.”

“I’m a writer.”

“Of course, so surely you must  _ go _ somewhere.”

“I don’t.”

“Grant does them for him,” Royce chimed in from the opposite of the room, never looking away from his terminal.

Sybil beamed while Asher glared.

“What?!” Asher yelled out to Royce

Meanwhile, Sybil squealed. “Is it true?!”

Well, there was no point in denying it now. Royce was going to pay for that.


	14. Wind

“It's windy.”

Asher looked up from his coffee and eyed Lillian. “Is it?”

Chin perched upon a loose, delicate fist, Lillian stared out the cafe window and watched banners and traffic lights fall victim to the torrent of win. She pursed her lips. “The polls showed it would be sunny and windless. This is anything but.”

His eyes widened.  _ Damn it, Royce, why do you have to toy with the Transistor now?  _ Another thing for Asher to cover up. It didn't help that Lillian, of all people, picked up on the details. 

“A glitch, maybe?” Asher offered. 

She paused. “Maybe.”


	15. Order

“No, stay!” A pause. “What did I just tell you?!”

Asher trudged down the stairs with a yawn, pushing hair out of his eyes. The commotion from the kitchen puzzled him, yet brought him a smile when he spied Grant glaring at the black cat nuzzling into his shin. 

“Are you ordering him around?” Asher asked while giggling. 

Grant scowled and crossed his arms. “It keeps trying to trip me while I make coffee.”

“He's just saying hello.” Asher scooped up his mischievous kitty to plant kisses on his furry head. “Is Grant being a meanie?”

“Grant wants his coffee.”


	16. Thanks

Balloons and streamers adorned the adjacent cubicle. Amelia completed her internship with literal and figurative flying colors. Each day Asher passed by, his disdain lessened and turned int bittersweet fondness. 

“What are you doing?”

Amelia peeked up from the boxes. “Packing. My last day, right?”

Asher failed to bite back his grin. Amelia’s confusion evaporated, replaced with sheer elation when he proposed the full-time position to her. She pounced his thin form and whispered teary thanks into his neck. In turn, Asher thanked her with a hug and smile; she had opened his eyes as much as he had hers.


	17. Look

Sybil’s laughter filled the living room with warmth in the dead of winter. Asher returned with hot chocolate, only to stop upon spotting her caught up with his cat. Black paws swatted at her dangling earrings with distinct clinks, thus tickling at Sybil’s cheek and neck. Sybil was a stickler for her attire - not a piece out of place - but she didn't shoo the critter away; she laughed until she cried. The joyous expression contrasted the gloom she fell into for the past few months. Over what, Asher didn't know. In a sense, it didn't matter; her happiness mattered now. 


	18. Summer

Even with state-of-the-art central air and fancy iced beverages, the building housing the OVC was beyond unbearable in the depths of summer. At least for Asher. A motorized fan swiveled in his direction every five seconds, yet he wiped sweat from his brow more often than not. Then there was Lillian and Amelia, both dressed in flowing, bright  fabrics with an extra bounce in their steps. They glowed like the sunrise and Asher continued to melt. The sooner winter rolled around, the better. At least the iced tea was delicious. Not to mention everyone loved having Lillian in higher spirits. 


	19. Transformation

A box tumbled over in the midst of Asher’s chaotic packing in preparation for moving in with Grant. But papers spilled from the box—scribbles from his younger days when he deemed himself a master at his art. Asher ceased his tasks to read over stories a decade old. He laughed at the mistakes, though was humbled by the blunt honesty in the penmanship. Fear didn't riddle his younger soul.  Something was to be said about the boundless, creative fervor within children which transformed him into who he was today. Asher never wished to relinquish it in his old age. 


	20. Tremble

He licked his lips and exhaled a moan which pleaded for more than teasing touches. In the time it was taking Grant to undo his belt, Asher would have torn their suits to shreds and crush their warm bodies together. It didn't help that Grant was as daft with his mouth as he was with his hand. He lavished Asher’s neck with bites and licks, pausing whenever Asher trembled into him. This was torture. Intoxicating, decadent torture. When Grant deemed Asher ready for more than mere foreplay, it would all be worth it. Until then, Asher was at his mercy. 


	21. Sunset

Past sunset and closing time, the three crashed in Lillian's spacious office for last minute work. Amelia prepped the brand new format for the OVC interface, Lillian proofread articles again, and Asher tackled the terminal's forums and social media. The OVC's redesign was kept under wraps, but after countless hours of labor, their work would pay off. Come midnight, the redesign launched. By then, they opted to sleep in Lillian's office. It wasn't until sunrise when Asher awoke to not only discover Amelia curled into Lillian on a couch, but also his terminal exploding with positive feedback from the launch.


	22. Mad

They weren't perfect; they fought like any couple did. And over the slightest annoyances, too. Asher’s blood boiled and erupted past his once closed lips. Then there was Grant—well-versed in charisma and etiquette amongst Cloudbank's finest—absolutely silent. When the anger dissolved and the slammed doors ceased to echo through the walls, Asher wrote. He apologized in eloquent words worthy of the education he earned. With the message sent, Asher could only wait. In time, Grant found him, embraced Asher from behind, and fondly kissed his temple. Fights might have broken out, but they never stayed mad for long.


	23. Thousand

There had been a time when Asher laughed at the idea of marriage. Why settle for a single person when there were a plethora of individuals to experience? It didn't mean anything beyond a warm body and mutual pleasure. He committed to article deadlines, not people. But that was all before Grant. Asher was young then. Stupid, even. How was he to know a single man would change his mind? Change his world? Yet a thousand words couldn't describe the picture of Grant he showed to his friends and family; Asher had to write a novel to even come close.


	24. Outside

He didn't know how long the front door had been open. Before Grant could get a word in, Asher booked out into the hallway and onto the streets. Outside was no place for a cat; the thought of a careless driver running over the feline pained Asher. He screamed out his pet's name, not caring for the public's wary eyes. Two blocks down, he found a ball of black fluff curled up in an abandoned box. Of course, the cat rolled around and meowed like it was some game. Scooping him up, Asher nuzzled him and the anxiety melted away.


	25. Winter

Nothing brought a brighter smile to Asher's face than the first signs of winter. It was evident in the fireplaces, the steaming hot cocoa, and the overcast skies promising snow. Grant, despite his love preferring the brightness and life accustomed to spring, did everything he could to further please Asher during those wintery days. He always treated Asher to a warm drink when they ventured out amidst the snow. Above all, Asher cherished the scarves Grant bought him. Even while at the well-heated OVC, Asher continued to bundle up in the fabrics, catching his love's scent in between the fibers.


	26. Diamond

Before she was ever the eyes and ears of the Camerata, Asher knew Sybil as a friend. She organized his wedding with Grant, after all, but beyond her skills as a coordinator, she shared an enthusiasm for life that matched Asher's. Many dismissed her as a shallow bitch, content with diamonds and overpriced drinks, but Asher interviewed plenty of fakes and Sybil wasn't one. Asher cherished conversations comprising of their hopes and dreams for themselves and Cloudbank. They inspired and invigorated each other. The only thing surpassing their high expectations was the genuine bond they formed in such little time.


	27. Letters

Asher didn't know which was worse: talking to Royce in person or via texts. While Asher preferred one-on-one interactions, Royce opted for cold, lifeless words glowing on the terminals. Asher gave him credit for being prompt and concise with his texts, but with each message sent meant another string of sentences plucking at Asher’s inner editor. Poor grammar, lowercase letter, made up acronyms… all of it.  _ And somehow he's older than me,  _ Asher thought. Though he made the mistake of correcting Royce’s sentences once, for Royce made it his job to clean up the organized chaos which was Asher’s desk.


	28. Promise

A week before graduation, Asher submitted twenty resumes. From editing to copywriting to ghostwriting, he yearned for a career where he crafted eloquent words. Anything else would have wasted his talents. Though graduation came and went and Asher was met with silence more often than polite rejections. Hope dwindled, yet sparked back to life when a message sent by the OVC appeared in his inbox.

What turned into an interview soon led to a job offer. Asher could have screamed. Instead, he shook his new supervisor's hand with an eager smile.

"I promise," he said, "I won't let you down."


	29. Simple

"Is something the matter?"

Lillian skewered him with cold eyes before straightening her posture. She beckoned to him and Asher obeyed, though held his breath upon eyeing the myriad articles on Maximillias on her terminal.

"He's missing," Lillian said, robbed of life.

"Were... you two—"

"Close?" She swiveled in her chair, facing Asher. "Is that the word you're looking for?" He could only nod. "What would  _ you  _ do when your best friend suddenly went missing?"

Except he wasn't missing. Not exactly.

"I'd go looking for them," Asher said.

Lillian scoffed. "If only it were that simple."

If only it were. 


	30. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double drabble, because I couldn't bring myself to edit this down.

It started as an interview; even then, others claimed Asher would be lucky if he got more than two vague sentences out of him. A week later, they bumped into each other at a gallery; Asher covered for a co-worker while he was there as an investor. They spoke together more than with the showcase artists. By the end of the month, they met at a cafe. For pleasure, not business.

They did so weekly at the same table by the window with the same drinks. By the fourth week, Asher rushed in late, only to find him there, waiting with Asher's drink.

"You didn't have to," Asher said.

"I  _ wanted  _ to."

Months later, Asher revisited his home, though not for an interview. He memorized the layout of the library, the balcony, the bedroom. Asher's personal items and touches popped up in time.

The last one to be added was not of his own, but of Grant's, in the form of a golden band on both of their fingers.

A future with Grant, founded and bound by love. Asher couldn't begin to fathom what his life was like before meeting the administrator, for how did he live up until then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus brings an end to this drabble collection. I really had no direction for Asher and his characterization when I first started, but writing him became more natural over time and I'm pleased with the results. Thank you all for reading and I hope these little snippets of his (possible) life were enjoyable to read. I do plan to keep continuing this series, if life and my health permit it. A little hint - the next character to be the focus has already shown up in this collection.


End file.
